


Helwater

by FaerieChild



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-05 09:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17322827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaerieChild/pseuds/FaerieChild
Summary: John accepts Jamie's offer at Helwater. A John/Jamie slash fic canon-compliant with Jamie/Claire. NSFW.





	Helwater

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't read the Lord John series so this may not be totally canon compliant with those but I hope you'll excuse it as a bit of artistic license.

_Fraser seemed to be thinking. “I should be … grateful, then,” he said, “if you would stand as stepfather to – to my son.” he had likely never spoken the word aloud before, and the sound of it seemed to shock him. “I … would be obliged to you.” Jamie sounded as though his collar were too tight, though in fact his shirt was open at the throat. Grey looked curiously at him, and saw that his countenance was slowly turning a dark and painful red. “In return...if you want… I mean, I would be be willing to...that is…”_

 

_Grey suppressed the sudden desire to laugh. He laid a light hand on the big Scot’s arm, and saw Jamie brace himself not to flinch at the touch. “My dear Jamie,” he said, torn between laughter and exasperation. “Are you actually offering me your body in payment for my promise to look after Willie?”_

 

_Fraser’s face was red to the roots of his hair._

 

“ _Aye, I am,” He snapped, tight-lipped. “D’ye want it, or no?”_

 

 _-_ Chapter 59, Voyager, D Gabaldon (1994)

 

 

Not for the first time in the hours that followed, John Grey wished that he had been able to find the strength to turn Jamie down. He wished he had been able to find a way to explain that no payment was required but all John had manage was a quiet, “You know that I do.”

 

They had agreed a time and a place. Jamie had suggested the stables, John had quickly disabused him of the notion of a quick roll in the hay.

 

“You are worth a whole lot more, James Fraser, than a dirty fumble in a dark corner. Take it from someone who has had plenty of them. No, come to my rooms after dinner. As far as the servants and household are concerned we will be playing chess all night. That way no one need know whom you do not wish to tell. Does that satisfy you?”

 

Jamie nodded. A grim resignation settling on his features.

 

The look in Jamie’s eye had haunted John all afternoon and all through dinner. It was clear from his hosts remarks in his direction that John’s distraction had been noted but John smoothly smiled their enquiries away with a complimentary remark about their daughter.

 

Still he was relieved to finally get past the multiple glasses of port, and the ladies in the drawing room, and retire to his rooms. John made a casual remark to the footman who had been sent to undress him after dinner about expecting Fraser for a bout of chess and sent for his personal supply of whisky and a platter of food should they become hungry during the course of their match. Fruit, cheese, cold meat pie and the last of that day’s bread arrived on a platter. John ensured there was plenty of fuel for the fire and that the sheets on the bed were clean and well made and dismissed the servant with a last request for hot tea and orders not to wait up over the course of the night.

 

In a moment of self-indulgence John pulled two clean nightshirts from the dresser and laid them side by side on the pillows. He checked that the small bottle of oil he kept about his person was safety tucked away and then drank plenty of hot tea until the urge came to relieve himself using the bed pan which he rang to have emptied and ordered a fresh pan of warm water. He stripped, pulling out the small vial of oil and took the time to loosen himself up a little before he washed and shaved and redressed and picked out a scent to wear, all the while noting the absurdity of dressing to impress a man who was in no way inclined towards him at the best of times. Preparations completed, John stood in front of the fire with a glass in hand trying to calm himself.

 

Some minutes later there was a sharp rap on the door that John at once recognised and he opened the door to find the looming presence of Jamie Fraser standing in the corridor outside. He was wearing his work clothes, looking rather haggard and smelling faintly of horses.

 

“I’m sorry, John, I was held up at the stables.”

 

John stood, staring at him for a moment until he caught his tongue. “My dear Jamie, you must never apologise to me for the honour of your presence. Now come in and sit down, you must be exhausted.”

 

Jamie looked John up and down and felt a blush rise to his face. It was clear that John had washed and dressed specially. He was wearing that pale grey satin suit with the duck blue embroidered waistcoat and fine new stockings. By the looks of things, John was even fresh shaven. Something Jamie had occasionally noticed during their chess matches at Ardsmuir. “Perhaps I might beg a postponement until I have had time to clean up,” Jamie suggested.

 

But the expression on John’s face told Jamie that now he had him here, Jamie was not going to be out of his sight for so much as a moment this evening. “Nonsense. You may clean up here.”

  
“John...”

 

John looked off into the distance for a while, before bringing his eyes back to Jamie’s. “I have wished many times over the course of this afternoon that I had the strength to reject your offer, Jamie. And I hope you know that in my heart of hearts, I shall never ask for any payment – nor require any payment – for taking care of William. My dearest Jamie, if you wish to go of course I give you leave.”

 

Jamie realised that John thought he had given himself an excuse for an early exit, a change of mind. That had not been either Jamie’s intention or design but now that the opportunity had presented itself it was tempting to make his excuses and go. However, he had given John his word. If John could ‘make trial of his capacity’ in London, if Jamie could endure the horrors of Black Jack Randall then there was no reason he would not be able to tolerate the attentions of John...even if Jamie suspected he would never be able to look the man in the eye ever again.

 

Jamie stayed where he was and John finally nodded, accepting his choice. “Well then,” John stepped further into the room and made his way from the lounge area of his rooms through to the bedroom. “The water is perhaps a little tepid now but you may use my things to wash and shave and...” John’s eyes scanned down Jamie’s clothes. “You have my leave to borrow any of my clothes you wish while were are here together.”

 

“That won’t be necessary, John.”

  
John stepped over to his dresser and removed a clean shirt that he handed over to Jamie. It was, of course, made of much finer linen than Jamie’s clothes as an outdoor servant. “It would please me greatly.”

 

Jamie took the shirt.

 

“If you require any assistance...”

 

Jamie nodded silently and John took his leave. He did not pull the door over between the rooms, however, and Jamie did not cross the room to close it either. And so John stood at the mantlepiece, eyes glued to the mirror as Jamie’s reflection stripped and washed and shaved and redressed.

 

With every movement Jamie could fell John’s eyes on him. Acutely conscious of using John’s things, in John’s room.

 

John’s soap. John’s shaving kit. John’s clean shirt.

 

John’s gaze, trying to give him a respectful distance and yet snatching glances in that grand mirror above the fireplaces.

 

Skin. Muscle. Back.

 

Jamie wondered what it was that John saw, but he had not the courage to ask. At length he came back through, wearing his own breeches but a clean pair of John’s stockings and John’s shirt and a waistcoat that was a little tight and wouldn’t button all the way up past Jamie’s broad shoulders. It seemed to please John if the blush rising to the man’s face was anything to go by. For Jamie it was more than a little unsettling for him to be on the receiving end of John’s naked open staring and though he had grown used to it with John, this was not the familiar, disguised, snatched glances.

 

He saw that John had a platter of food suitable for snacking on through the course of their hypothetical chess match and wondered if it wasn’t all a bit much for the sake of a quick round of buggery.

 

“May I?”

 

Jamie had blinked and John was at his side, inviting him over to the fireplace. “You must be tired.”

 

“John...thank you for your kindness but I think I might find it a little easier if we just got it over with.”

 

Such an expression of hurt, discomfort and upset Jamie had never had cause to witness cross the man's face. Jamie was reminded once more of the peculiarities of navigating this strange half-friendship with John.

 

“My dear Jamie...”

 

There it was again, that almost intimate expression and John reaching out for him in the same manner that he hand once reached for Jamie’s hand across a chess set at Ardsmuir. This time, Jamie forced himself not to pull back and watched John warily as he lifted Jamie’s hand and caressed it in his own. “If I am to have but one night of your company I beg that you would understand that my greatest desire for our time together is to please you.”

 

“To please me?!”

 

John’s eyes searched Jamie’s and found wariness and not a little fear. It did not surprise him, knowing what he knew about Jamie Fraser’s time in British custody and John knew that he would do anything to ease a little of that pain. “I know what it is to be on the receiving end of unwanted attention from other men...and to have no say or choice in the matter.”

 

When Jamie looked at him, John’s eyes reflected a pain and understanding that echoed deeply with Jamie’s soul and he found himself moving his hand in John’s and clasping it tighter, holding onto that connection. Jamie supposed that as far as men went John was rather handsome, with a fine figure. Good teeth, a full head of hair, arresting eyes. They were familiar to him now, these things. And he had no idea what men looked for in other men but he knew enough to know that John was the sort of person whose looks drew attention of both the sexes. It took a deep breath and a long moment of mental gathering, but Jamie resigned himself to trusting John and forced a gentle smile onto his face.

 

“Alright then. I suppose I wouldn’t mind sitting by the fire a little while.”

 

Jamie sat, John added an extra log and then brought the platter over and poured them both glasses of whisky. John would have preferred wine but he had gone to the effort of sourcing this for Jamie and he could tell by the expression on Jamie’s face that the man was surprised.

 

“That’s not the legal stuff,” Jamie noted.

 

John’s eyes danced, happy in knowing that this at least appeared to have Jamie’s approval. They fell into their familiar way, the gentle conversation as the game began and Jamie ate his way through the platter. John’s stomach was full of nerves and already having had his dinner he couldn’t eat a bite in spite of Jamie having offered. It was a few hours into the night before John had the boldness to reach for Jamie’s hand and this time – unlike that time so long ago at Ardsmuir – Jamie did not snatch it back.

 

John met his eye and then turned Jamie’s hand over, inspecting the workman’s callouses on his large, strong palms. John’s stomach clenched, imagining those hands on him.

 

“Have you ever been in love?”

 

John was surprised at Jamie’s question. Did he not know the dangers of the answer? Was he fishing for something, some sort of confirmation that John had not thought would ever be demanded. “His name was Hector.” John paused, “He died at Culloden.”

 

Jamie felt John’s hand grip his a little tighter, both hands grasping his fingers across the table.

 

“When he died my world ended, Jamie. I never expected to love again. Never mind so...inconveniently.”

 

Jamie snorted at that. “Aye, love can be like that. I wonder sometime what Claire would think about all this.” She came to mind now as he spoke of her. The curls of her hair, the ripples in it like the ripples of a highland burn. The smell of her, the feel of her body under his. And a small smile curled his lips. It served in some small way to settle the qualms in his stomach and something in his expression must have changed for John came around the table then to stand at Jamie’s side.

 

Jamie forced himself to sit still as John paused before him.

 

“Its alright, John,” Jamie said quietly. “Friends, no?”

 

Whether it was the words or the way he said it, Jamie could see a worry ease in John’s eyes and a smile of sorts lit his eyes. Acceptance. Whatever this was John’s fingers gravitated towards Jamie’s head, sinking into the mass of russet curls pulled back with a leather thong. John’s fingers pulled the knot apart and watched Jamie’s eyes flutter closed as John’s fingers met his scalp and began to sink and swirl, moving in gentle soothing motions that made Jamie groan indecently.

 

It seemed Jamie Fraser’s scalp was rather sensitive. Well, John smiled to himself, that was something to note.

 

“I did have a question to ask you, as it happens,” John removed his fingers with great reluctance. But it was only fair not to play the advantage.

 

“Oh, aye?”

 

“I wondered whether I might be permitted to kiss you.”

 

Jamie had been the one to initiate things earlier, although John was under no illusions that that had been prompted out of gratitude they had both of them spoken of honour and come to an understanding.

 

Jamie flushed but nodded. This was it, then. The look in John’s eye told him there was no going back from here. But just as terror began to grip his heart at the remembrance of Black Jack Randall, Jamie reminded himself that this was only John and he was safe here. At the very least, he was safe. “Aye, John. Ye may kiss me if ye wish.”

 

It was not a surprise to Jamie that John treated him like a lover. He had had more than an inkling before offering himself in this way that that’s what was in John’s heart. Oh there was lust there to be sure but there was a lot more to the way John cared for him and looked out for him and it might not be the same for Jamie but that did not mean that John’s care didn’t touch his heart. It humbled him greatly, not because of John’s station or stepfather or family connections. It humbled him, in truth, because of John’s heart. There were not so many men in positions of greatness, Jamie thought, who were truly so very good at heart. There was a kindness to John, a thoughtfulness that Jamie’s soul responded to. No matter that the package was a little different to what he was used to.

 

Jamie let John take the lead, curious now to know what this side of him was like. John stood up and clasping Jamie’s hands in his reached down and pecked their lips together.

 

It was brief and chaste and strangely intimate. Like they’d been kissing that way all their lives. And then John looked down at him and pulled on their joined hands to bring Jamie to his feet and then, giving Jamie a moment, John kissed Jamie again longer and deeper. John’s tongue probed and Jamie opened his mouth and then their hands fell apart and John was grasping his head and kissing him like a drowning man.

 

Such kissing was not so different, Jamie supposed, although the body under his palms was. The hips were slimmer, the stomach not to soft. The back firmer, the chest flat. And yet it was John. Known and familiar, a body he had looked on a hundred times across a chess board and in John’s rooms at Ardsmuir and in endless walks here at Helwater.

 

And then there was the sweet, applewood smoke of the fireplace in his lungs and the taste of the candlewax in his nose as Jamie breathed in and John’s forehead rested against his. “If I do something to cause you distress you must tell me. Do you promise. On your honour, Jamie.”

 

“I promise,” Jamie agreed.

 

“May I take you to bed now?”

 

Jamie’s stomach flipped with nerves and he could not help but notice that John’s breeches had swelled rather but this was John, and Jamie trusted him. “Aye, John.”

 

“I trust that you are warm enough?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“And you have had enough to eat?”

 

Jamie knew what stalling looked like when he saw it. It seemed that John was almost as nervous as he was but Jamie was a man who had always been inclined to grab the bull by the horns and so he rose in one smooth move that made John take half a step back and then, grasping John’s hand tightly Jamie led them both through to the adjacent bedroom and laid John’s hands on him. “Do your worst, then.”

 

“I shall hope to do a damn site better than my worst!” John exclaimed and to John’s surprise and delight Jamie laughed in great guffaws that lit up his face and made his eyes dance.

 

“Look, I might not care for you as you care for me but you have been a very good friend to me, John, when I needed it most. And I thank ye for that.”

 

“Does it bother you terribly?” John asked, his voice quiet and quavering slightly with nerves.

 

Jamie sighed. He let one hand rise and lay flat against John’s chest, feeling his pectoral through the layers of cloth. Wondering at the difference to the female form that he was used to. But the heart that usually raced with panic at such a prospect was only going a little fast and almost in anticipation. “No, John. Maybe once, it did but not now. I know you now. You cannot help that you love me. In a way it is rather nice to know that you are loved.”

 

“Where has the Jamie Fraser gone who could not bear for me to so much as touch his skin, who slept with one eye open lest he should be molested in the night on all our travels?”

 

“He learned better. Go on, then. I do trust you, you know.”

 

And with those words John’s eyes melted and his hands slid into Jamie’s once more and twined their arms together and used them to pull their bodies close, hips and lips pressing together. And then John’s hands departed and came back on Jamie’s chest, unbuttoning the waistcoat button by button and sliding it off Jamie’s shoulders and then asking Jamie to do the same for him and all the time openly drinking in the sight of Jamie’s warm skin and well formed muscles from the physical daily work. It was not the first time Jamie had been under John’s scrutiny in this way. Sometimes when they were together he could see the look in John’s eyes and he tolerated it so long as John did not touch him. There was an understanding there that had shifted now as Jamie gave John permission.

 

Jamie obliged, undressing John and touching his body from time to time with the gentle hands he used on the skittish horses. Jamie laid a palm low on John’s belly and listened to his breath get shallower. It was in watching John’s reaction to him that Jamie realised he had more power here than he had realised, that John’s desire was different to Jamie’s previous experiences with such things. No, John was nothing like Sandringham or Black Jack. He reminded Jamie more of Claire, his Sassenach, when she was in the throes of lust and needed him. The way she would beg and claw at his back and moan just so when he…

 

Jamie realised he was growing aroused and snapped his mind back to the present. Unwittingly as Jamie moved, John's eyes clashed with his almost in challenge. Jamie, refusing to back down, ploughed on and began to unbutton the man’s breeches. As he did so John’s hand stilled Jamie’s own and pressed it into his crotch. Jamie watched John’s eyes fall closed and his mouth fall open in a blessed moment of sweet relief when he needed it. An apology almost fell from John’s lips but Jamie cut him off with just enough friction through the layers to promise more. It was not the first time Jamie had sighted the hint of arousal in John's loins but this was the first time Jamie had seen him so in such plain sight and as he fully expected the night to go a certain way Jamie was not beyond sneaking a glance. Jamie had endured buggery before, and Willie need never know what Jamie had submitted himself to in order to secure his safety. Yet at the same time could not hold back the slight sense of dread and his hand throbbed in painful remembrance. By this point even Jamie had to admit that John’s breeches were looking rather uncomfortable, though there was little in the way of any corresponding stirring in Jamie’s own loins. But John fought to control his breathing and keep his eyes on Jamie and commanded him to kneel down and remove the stockings first.

 

This part, at least, Jamie could always appreciate. One calf, after all, was much like another and he had always had a bit of a soft spot for a nice leg although the main factor in Jamie’s admiration was usually the person to whom it was attached. Apparently his hands lingered long enough for John to take notice and send a teasing comment his way that at least made Jamie laugh.

 

“Do you have any idea how dashing you look with that billowing white shirt and all those ridiculous muscles,” John observed with a smile.

 

Jamie looked up at John from where he kneeled before him. "Was I mistaken in thinking you rather liked the muscles, John?"

 

John swallowed hard and his gaze sharpened slightly. "No, Jamie," John said quietly. "You were not mistaken."

 

Jamie couldn’t resist it, he gave John’s slim arse a decent grope and asked him if he was jealous. Jamie had never heard the man squeak so, but it made Jamie wonder what other noises he could elicit from the man over the course of the night. If there were going to do this, and apparently they were if the matching night shirts were anything to go by, Jamie supposed he may as well enjoy it as best he could. It had never occurred to him that that was an option, that he might enjoy this. But John’s company and humour and kindness were hard to resist. His hands were gentle and loving and Jamie found after a time he didn’t mind it so much. It was so long since Jamie had been touched by loving hands.

 

Painfully long.

 

Removing himself from the awkward knowledge of being eye level with John’s erection, Jamie forced himself onwards, unbuttoning the breeches and allowing John to push them off. Last but not least, Jamie stood back watching John’s slim torso appear as the fine white linen of his shirt was peeled upwards over his head by Jamie’s capable hands.

 

When John was left in nothing Jamie was left foundering with the very visible evidence of John’s arousal staring Jamie in the face. In truth there was nothing particularly extraordinary about the man’s physical attributes. Army life had left him slimly muscled, a flat stomach and strong legs for walking and riding. His manhood was of average size, his face as it always had been – handsome and kind.

 

He was just a man.

 

No, it was not John that Jamie feared.

 

Memories stirred. Black Jack’s laugh. The way the man’s penis moved inside him. The overwhelming pain of his hand. The wetness of the unwanted seed. The desire to peel his own skin off after. The pain of Claire seeing him in that state.

 

Jamie closed his eyes and fell to his knees as the memories overwhelmed him. He felt John move closer but had not the words to tell him what was wrong. A gentle hand came to rest on his head and Jamie leaned his head against John’s thigh until the moment passed. Right now he wasn’t sure if he was sure he could keep his word, to let John have his body.

 

“My dearest Jamie...my love...” Those words again and John’s gentle hands in his hair and then John was kneeling before him, hand grasping his face and eyes searching and meeting Jamie’s own with a knowing stare and waited patiently until the nausea passed. “Should I fetch a Doctor?”

 

Jamie shook his head. The fingers of his undamaged hand went to the scars on the other where Claire had fixed him once and then in an impulsive move tore off the shirt that covered his ruined back. Black Jack’s scars, and the added ones that John had been forced to order. Jamie knew what he was doing, felt the defiance well within him as John’s eyes drank in his scars and turned pale. Remembering throwing up in his desk with such indignity and sorrow…

 

“Oh God,” John muttered, reaching out and then snatching his hand back.

 

“Still want me, John?” Jamie stared him down, both of them feeling a little wobbly.

 

“I hated you for such a long time. Your stubbornness. I would have begged at your feet for you to give up the man responsible.”

 

“You know I could not do that, John.”

 

John only stared all the more at Jamie’s back and finally nodded, solemnly. “Your wife, with her herb knowledge. Did she have something for your scars?” John could tell that he had surprised Jamie with the question. After all the subject of Jamie’s wife was a matter that most who knew him had learned to steer well clear of. John however, had always had more than a little curiosity about the woman who inspired such devotion long after she was gone. And he had more than a little respect for her as well. More than that, a selfish part of him loving noting the way Jamie’s face changed when he thought of her. The way his features softened and his eyes glistened and his voice went a little bit rough.

 

“Aye, she had some salve that she made from the herbs she knew. I try and make it as best I can from the hedgerows myself although its never quite up to her standard.”

 

A probing eyebrows from John coughed up a small tin of salve that Jamie carried in his pocket and Jamie forced himself to stand still as John placed the salve on the night stand. Sneaking a glance, Jamie could see that the last few minutes had diminished John’s enthusiasm somewhat.

 

Jamie took a deep breath.

 

John, Jamie reminded himself, was nothing like Black Jack and there was no use pretending the scars didn’t exist. It was what it was. Circumstances had forced the situation. They could both accept what it was and move on.

 

There was an honesty in that that Jamie appreciated.

 

Moving closer to the bed, Jamie waited for John to return and then took his friend’s hands in his and placed them on his body. A question arose in John’s eyes that made Jamie flush to answer it.

 

“When you touch me and I can see that its you, it takes me out of the memories. Grounds me, you might say. It was the same way wi’ Claire.”

 

Jamie amused himself by watching the way John flushed at the revelation and then the joy and rapture at the permission to explore. The way John’s eye deepened when they laid eyes on Jamie’s muscles, or lost his words at the flexing of an arm. The naughty grin that crossed his face when John flicked a nipple cheekily.

 

In response Jamie loomed over him and walked John backwards until the man found himself back up to a pillar of the four poster bed. No matter that he was differently inclined to John, Jamie rather liked the slight stirring of power that came with John’s dumbfounded reaction to his physical presence.

 

“Jamie stop teasing me.”

 

“Is that what it is that I’m doing?” Jamie propped one hand against the pillar above John’s head. Their bodies close but not touching, their heady masculine scents in the air.

 

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” John swallowed, wishing for all the world that Jamie would kiss him or take him in hand or something. Almost as if he had psychic powers Jamie laid a palm flat on his stomach and trailed a finger down the line of hair from his navel all the way to the tip of his penis and John groaned when Jamie’s palm wrapped around him.

 

“Maybe you could tell me exactly what it is you have in mind for us, tonight?”

 

John tried to control himself. He could hear his own panting breath, feel the sweat breaking out all over his body. His hips moved, responding to Jamie’s touch and he tried to bury his head in the nook of Jamie’s neck but Jamie was having none of it. Jamie kept up a calm, steady rhythm much slower than John wanted but Jamie seemed to know that and John’s mind was going blank.

  
What was the question?

 

“Are you asking my preferences?” John swallowed hard, “I like this a lot.”

 

Jamie’s hand stopped. “Will ye be buggering me then?”

 

With considerable willpower John slowly removed Jamie’s hand from his person and when John moved to step away Jamie let him go. He walked away across the room and stood nude on front of the fireplace with his back to Jamie. The warm light of the hearth playing over John’s pale skin. “You are correct that that is generally my preference. When...when I was still quite young I was assaulted.” John let out a long sigh. “I could simply say that I vowed never to let another man put me in that position ever again and it would not be untrue.”

 

“But there’s more to it, than that,” Jamie guessed.

 

By the fireplace John nodded and swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. He could sense Jamie’s eyes on him and the tingle of pleasure it gave him heightened the tension in the air. “For men such as myself, we operate in the shadows. There are places we meet, places we can hide but nowhere is truly safe. Why bother with the privacy of a bedchamber when you may be arrested there as easily as in a public London park? The dark corners of a servant’s corridor are hardly any more discreet than buggery in broad daylight in the most esteemed residence in London. We are illegal; what we do is prohibited by law no matter where it takes place. And yet society, the establishment will turn a blind eye to a Captain raping the cabin boy, an officer invading the tents of young boy soldiers barely out of their teens. Such things in the absence of women are almost expected, in some quarters.”

 

“And largely excused if you have the right name, or the right connections,” Jamie observed.

 

“Indeed. It is quite another matter to allow yourself to...take the alternative position. To trust your body to them in the most intimate way imaginable. And to trust that they will not use their knowledge of such things for nefarious purposes.”

 

Jamie nodded, as if his mind was following the same train of thought. “Ye mean blackmail.”

 

“Society is not kind on us, Jamie. For a man in a senior position to allow himself that...I have struggled to trust anyone enough to allow it willingly and even then the memory of the assault makes the matter profoundly difficult.” John half turned around then and for the briefest of glances he met Jamie’s eyes. “However, if my partner was someone who themselves had endured the experience of such an assault, someone moreover I did trust intimately, someone I trusted with my life and held in great esteem, someone who keeps my secrets as I keep his and understood for himself where I was coming from...I might consider asking such a friend if he would be willing to be intimate with me in that manner.”

 

Jamie stilled. That was not what he had been expecting.

 

“I trawl dark corners of London hoping to find men who’ll agree to satisfy my urges without getting murdered in cold blood. Is that what you want to know? How many times I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life for craving sex with other men?"

 

“John...” Jamie stepped forwards but thought the better of it and paused. He could feel the anger and anxiety coming off John in waves.

 

“I promised I would not ask anything of you that caused you discomfort and I intend to keep my word,” John informed Jamie.

 

Jamie watched him fight to regain his composure, which was rather tricky in the circumstances. Naively he had presumed he knew what it was that John wanted, thought he knew how this evening would go. After all there had only been one thing that men like Sandringham wanted from boys, one thing that Black Jack Randall wanted. He had thought that it was only obvious what John would want as well and everything he knew about the man's habits had indicated likewise.

 

Except that it wasn’t obvious at all, apparently. “You should have told me,” Jamie said quietly.

 

Half a sob escaped from John chest. “And said what? Forsaken my own honour and yours?” John shook his head. “At least you consider me to still have some semblance of honour. I intend to enjoy your company tonight, Jamie, but I have no intention of forcing you into participating in things I know are well beyond anything you would consider honourable. Quite why I told you I struggle to fathom.” And yet John could not deny that he had been hoping all the same; that he had even gone so far as to begin preparations earlier.

 

 

Jamie slowly, step by step, crossed the room towards John and stood at his back. There was a foot or so between them, but still Jamie imagined that he could feel the heat of John’s skin. “Would you let me try?”

 

John’s face was the picture of confusion as he whirled around to take in Jamie’s face, red to the roots of his hair with self consciousness. “You cannot be serious.”

 

There were several things that came into Jamie's mind at that moment. He had found that he didn’t care much for pleasures of the flesh without Claire in his life. He had lain with Mary McNabb but found that there was little pleasure in it for him if he didn’t care for his partner and the events surrounding William's consummation and birth did neither him nor Geneva Dunsany any credit. Honour? Jamie had not acquitted himself with much honour that night, but neither had the woman herself. And as for John, although the way he cared for John was different to how he had felt for his wife, Jamie could acknowledge that he had come to care for John in his own way. Then there was John’s position to think of, forcing himself into dangerous and vulnerable places to find what he needed in matters of intimacy and all the while thinking of marrying William’s aunt and becoming the boy's guardian. For Jamie himself there was nothing that would quench his need with Claire gone from this world, but it had been so very long. For his own selfish reasons, for John but also for William...there were a number of reasons why Jamie found he would have been willing. “After everything that you’ve done for me, John, I think that I am.”

 

John was once more on the back foot, but part of Jamie thought he preferred it that way. He was more comfortable, at least, knowing it was he and not John who was steering matters between them although Jamie sensed that had things not been quite so new and fragile between them John would be asserting himself rather more. Jamie could see well enough the lust in John's eyes.

 

"You may undress me now, if you like," Jamie told John and he stood, still and compliant as John took his time getting handsy with Jamie's body as the man slowly peeled the rest of Jamie's clothes off. Perhaps it should have disconcerted Jamie to be treated so, but in truth he found himself amused at the way John's hands combined reverence with shameless groping. When Jamie raised an eyebrow at John for his lingering hands John chuckled warmly at being caught out and copped a feel for good measure. Only when John had satisfied himself did Jamie make a performance of laying himself down on his front and inviting John over to do his back. He had no idea whether John would accept his invitation. Jamie could feel that the dynamic had changed between them. Become something more, something deeper. Then he heard the soft pad of footfall moving towards the bed and when Jamie turned his head sideways John was reaching out for the salve and opening the jar, could feel John’s naked thighs straddle him, could imagine his erection bobbing gently at half mast.

 

Jamie waited for the bubble of fear to well inside him, but none came and then John's hands touched him. A palm flat between the shoulder blades that seemed to release all the tension from Jamie's muscles and for the first time that night Jamie let himself relax. Let himself listen to the crackling of the fire and the soft way John hummed as he worked and the gentle hands that methodically worked the salve into every inch of his back, teasing out knots and tension and doing so with worshipful intent and lingering especially on the newer scars that overlaid the old.

 

The brutal truth laid bare across Jamie's back about the might of the British empire. Was it any sort of comfort, John wondered as he stared at Jamie’s back, to be in a position of power? To attempt to make the sentences a little lighter? The lashes somewhat fewer? To attempt what benevolence one could, even if all it extended to was a few scraps of edible weed and a bit of recovery time? It hadn’t been before. Not when it mattered. John’s position had always been too precarious to do anything but what was required of him. John would have to make do, taking what pleasure and solace he could find.

 

Underneath, Jamie wondered why John had stilled.

 

“Are you alright, John?”

 

Jamie's words brought John back to the present and he quickly finished up before his nerves got the better of him. Jamie was still lying face-down, one cheek resting on his arms looking for all the world like a big cat stretched out after a long supper. He really was a magnificent specimen.

 

With a slight sense of shame John took himself in hand and fondled himself to ease the need. Strong legs from riding, back muscles from endless physical work outside moving hay and carts and goods and other ad hoc work as it was required of him had left Jamie's body a specimen. Tall and leaner than most other men of his age, Jamie's physicality was topped off with that vivid red hair, now with a few streaks of grey growing through it. Oh, John sighed, Jamie had grown into his age. It seemed to mature him, like fine wine.

 

John reached out a hand one last time, mapping a group of freckles on Jamie’s arse.

 

“Do they stay there all year round?”

 

“The ones on my arse?” Jamie asked with a smirk.

 

“Any of them.”

 

“They come and go,” Jamie responded casually.

 

John’s fascination was not complete. Indeed, he thought, he would never tire of mapping Jamie Fraser’s freckles. He lay himself down at Jamie’s side to examine the ones on his face, brought out by a life outdoors. There were new ones, he noted, over Jamie’s brow and his hand lifted to trace them. Jamie put up with it, somewhat amused by the absolute rapture on John’s face at the opportunity to explore his body.

 

“They’re just freckles, John,” Jamie teased.

 

“Hush. Don’t spoil my fun.”

 

Jamie found himself smiling at the boyish insistence on John’s part. Like a wee boy wanting to keep playing in the mud. Jamie wondered if John had ever played in the mud as a child. From the sounds of things his childhood had been much too miserable for anything so fun.

 

John’s hand moved from his face to his ribs and when he couldn’t follow the line of them to his satisfaction insisted Jamie turn over and with a huff Jamie obliged. After all, John had spent half the night sneaking glances at his cock and was apparently as interested in that than his arse. Maybe that should have given away John’s preferences, Jamie mused.

 

As Jamie turned, John’s hand stayed on his body trailing a line around his torso and Jamie settled on his back, eyeing John’s hand. It drifted involuntarily south before John seemed to catch himself. Jamie was aware he was somewhat well endowed beneath his sporran which had, he recalled, pleased his wife immensely and he found himself chuckling at the thought.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Jamie, its a damn sight harder to do this with you laughing at me.”

 

Was that what John thought? He did what he always did to make a connection with someone he cared for, Jamie reached out and found John’s skin, Jamie’s palm grasping John securely round the back of his neck. “I was recalling my wife’s appreciation of my manhood, if ye must know. I’m no’ laughing at ye.”

 

When John nodded, Jamie patted him firmly on the chest in a neutral gesture of armistice. Predictably John’s hand at once reached towards Jamie’s cock and he thought to make some sort of smart remark but after John had revealed his vulnerabilities Jamie hadn’t the heart. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on calming his anxious heart as John’s hands fell on him intimately for the first time. John’s touch was gentle, his hands slightly shaking. John paused, gathered himself and again this time with a little oil and taking Jamie more firmly but there was no corresponding response. After a while Jamie caught John’s wrist as it moved and stilled him. In spite of everything, Jamie wasn’t really feeling all that aroused right now but he knew from his time as a husband exactly what he needed to do to get up to speed. Watching John carefully, Jamie grabbed John’s wrist and lifted it over John’s head before rolling over onto John’s body and pinning him down with his weight. The way that their groins pressed together might have bothered Jamie once. Now it amused him how flustered John got and Jamie took a certain pleasure in leaning down and capturing John’s plump lips with his own. John groaned at the contact and opened his mouth invitingly.

 

Jamie obliged, one hand abandoning John’s wrist to cup his jaw, feeling the tender skin and bone move with each kiss. When they paused for air, Jamie’s thumb played over the smooth skin behind John’s ear and the non-existent stubble on his freshly shaved chin. “I can see why you made me shave now.”

 

“Beard burn,” John agreed with a smile. “You like kissing?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“Not all men do, with this.”

 

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

  
“NO!” John cried urgently. “I mean...”

 

Jamie’s shoulders shook in silent mirth. “So that’s a yes to the kissing then is it?”

 

As soon as he asked it, Jamie realised it was a bit of stupid question. John was lying there like the cat that got the cream, squashed into the large bed by Jamie’s larger body, his erection pressing into Jamie’s belly and Jamie’s looming chest and shoulders hovering over him to gawk at. It was all too clear to Jamie that John rather liked him in this position.

 

It was a surprise to Jamie that he appeared to enjoy it as well when John began to kiss him again and hands began to wander, starting by cupping Jamie’s neck and then wandering down his back, round his hips and up his stomach to play with his nipples. Jamie let himself forget about his worries and fell into the familiar pleasures of kissing lips and warm skin and idle hands. It was one of life’s under-rated indulgences. In all his time with Claire he had never grown tired of kissing her and holding her and as things went on with John, kissing longer and deeper, his hands grew used to John’s form and Jamie's body began to respond. The differences and the similarities to being with a woman for pleasure seemed to matter less and less as a warm feeling pooled in his stomach.

 

John still had sensitive nipples. He was still ticklish around the ribs and he still liked – so it seemed – someone nipping at his neck. It was the unexpected reaction to Jamie’s groping at his back that made Jamie still. A passing touch to the centre of John’s back made him arch outrageously and with curiosity Jamie trailed a finger up John’s spine and got a full body shudder in return and a deep groan that made John grind against Jamie's body all the harder.

 

“Jamie...Jamie...Jamie...”

 

John made an exclamation to a variety of deities and grabbed Jamie’s hand and brought it between them. Jamie got the hint and did as asked, obliging when John gasped for Jamie’s grip to be harder and tighter. Jamie teased him for a while before obliging, exploring the sensitive spot under the head, listening for the noise John made and filing it at the back of his mind; taking his thumb to the head where John’s seed leaked out in little white dribbles. John was far gone with need now, his hips snapping, his arms gripping Jamie’s form.

 

“Its alright, John. Let go now...” Jamie reassured him and slipped into soft words of Gaelic that seemed to be the trigger for John to fall apart. His body moved in a few last jerking thrusts and Jamie felt the warm wetness release all over his hand and their bodies.

 

The pain, the shame, the negative emotions Jamie had been expecting to overwhelm his Catholic soul at the thought of laying with another man failed to materialise. There was only him and John and John’s quiet breathing and the way he buried his head in Jamie’s shoulder and wouldn’t let go.

 

 

John groaned deeply and threw his head back, languishing in the waning echoes of pleasure. They lay there half pressed against each other and holding each other still as John drifted off for a few moments in post-coital bliss.

 

When John came back to them, Jamie was lying up in bed idly palming himself with lazy movements just to keep himself hard. “How do ye want to do this then?” Jamie asked carefully.

 

John was all too aware that Jamie was putting himself on show here on his account. His eyes fixed on that left hand, oiled and slick; on the sure way it moved and twisted; on the way the veins stood out coiling around the thick girth and the way the foreskin moved across the head as Jamie's hand grasped himself in strong, confident strokes.

 

Jamie’s hand stilled. “John,” He said softly, “This isn’t the easiest thing for me...”

 

Right, John recalled, Jamie had been asking him a question. The thought of the fantasy that had played through his head for years was enough to make him look away and not for the first time this evening John wished once again that he had the strength to turn Jamie down. One hand reached out and touched Jamie’s thigh, the nearest part of Jamie that John could touch.

 

“Whatever it is that you want, it can’t be worse than I suffered at the hands of that bastard Randall.”

 

“NO! God! No, Jamie.”

 

Jamie prowled forwards, his eyes locking onto John’s as John lay back. Yet there was a humour in Jamie’s eye. A mirth, almost. “John, its no secret to me that ye’ve been looking at me a certain way since I first got to know you. Ye may be honest wi' me.”

 

“Well as a matter of fact...if I have a choice about it I’d rather see your face. Although I understand if you prefer not to see mine.”

 

“If there’s one thing life has taught me, John, its that a man will do pretty much anything with the right motivation.”

  
John dare not ask what Jamie’s motivation was in being here tonight. He was sure that he would not like the answer. Nor had he quite been expecting the enthusiasm to which Jamie had committed himself to the task at hand. In truth it made John feel rather nervous about proceeding but he wanted this. He needed it. It had been so long…

 

His brain still half-addled with orgasm, John watched Jamie scrub his right hand over his face. “Alright,” The man said at last, “I’ll serve ye face to face if its what ye wish.” Something about the crude way Jamie put it heightened John’s acute heightened sense of awareness but Jamie was there then, scooting closer and fumbling with the small vial of oil John had brought to the bed and John found he didn’t mind so much. It might be awkward and crude but he wanted this and he watched as Jamie opened the oil.

 

“One needs to prepare, you see...that is, I shall need to-”

 

“I know,” Jamie cut John off thinking it better to spare them both the explanation. “How does it work then, face to face? Is everything no in the wrong place?”

 

The look of utter confusion that marred Jamie’s face as he genuinely tried to work out the mechanics of it caused John to laugh out loud, particularly when he turned his head sideways as if oggling John’s arse at a different angle would reveal the solution.

 

“A pillow under the hips,” John informed him. “And then I lift my legs and you-” John made a gesture.

 

“Ah,” Jamie nodded. It was probably best not to think about it too much and just get on with it. To give the doubts and worries no room, to sort out what it meant later that he was agreeing to take John on as a lover. Randall came to mind, the careful preparations that Jamie knew now to all be part of the torture so that Jamie knew exactly what was coming. Pushing the memory aside Jamie found himself thinking of his wedding night and his embarrassment at his new wife’s expectation that they consummate the marriage face to face. In truth it hadn't been simply the horses but the whores in France that followed the army that Jamie had only ever seen rutted from behind the few times he'd cared to look.

 

He found himself wondering what Claire would think of John and as soon as the thought crossed his mind Jamie harshly stomped it down and told himself to stop wallowing. This was not the place for thoughts of Claire. After, maybe. When the ghost of her soft comforting hands and the press of her head on his shoulder would be all too near. Taking John at his word Jamie reached for a pillow and together they wedged it under John’s hip.

 

“Jamie if you wait a moment I can prepare myself.” John reached for the vial but Jamie wouldn’t give it up.

 

Jamie didn’t have much left in the way of words, didn’t really trust himself to speak at this point but he refused John the vial and was careful to let John see him oiling up a finger. "I'll do it."

 

John closed his eyes, swallowed hard and took the Lord's name in vein but Jamie would not be dissuaded. he oiled up John's cock, teased the head and fondled his balls. Jamie listened quietly to John’s ongoing instructions and curses, all the time remembering Claire's detailed anatomy lessons. John, Jamie, noted was flaccid now although the sensitive spot that Claire had called the _perineum_ still elicited a verbal response. A wise women apparently knew these things and Jamie reckoned after marrying an educated woman himself that the general education of women was a much under-rated source of pleasure.

 

Back in the present John was eyeing him nervously as if he hadn’t the slightest confidence in Jamie getting it right and yet the look was mixed with an expression of such ardent desire and bliss that Jamie found himself snorting.

 

“Easy, John. Just relax.”

 

Jamie paused, bracing himself as John waited with anticipation. Once they did this there was no going back.

 

“Dear God, man, must I beg," John wiggled his hips hopefully.

 

Still, Jamie paused. Jamie would say this for the man at least, his friend was fastidious in his personal hygiene.

 

“I started myself a little earlier. It shouldn’t be too...oh thank God!” John’s next words were lost in a deep groan of pleasure as Jamie’s fingers rubbed a ring around John’s anus and gently probed inside. More oil again and then at John’s insistence Jamie gently inched a finger inside and searched around until he found the spot that he was looking for. "Curse me six ways from Sunday," John gasped. "How the devil do you know about that?"

 

"Did ye forget I was married to a wise woman?" Jamie chuckled darkly and continued, working the muscles all the time to loosen things up as John's mouth grew more foul. First one finger, and then two, and then three – by which point John was pressing down against his fingers looking for more and promising every wicked thing he could think of on Jamie if the man didn't do as he asked. For a man who preferred thing the other way around, John seemed to like the sensation well enough, the stretch and pressure of being filled. Jamie added more oil again, first to John and then himself. He was only half aroused now, the heavy weight of his erection standing at half mast against his thigh. Jamie made a show of letting John see him work himself to full hardness again, allowing thoughts of Claire to slip in – of the way she moaned when he was buried deep inside her, of the way she moved against him when she needed to be filled.

 

Jamie lifted John’s legs, lined himself up and then paused. “Do ye reckon its enough oil?” Jamie asked quietly.

 

“Well there’s no such thing as too much.”

 

“Only I was thinking-”

 

“Jamie...”

 

“Right.” With John’s legs on his shoulders, Jamie let one hand come to rest on John’s thigh and grasped his cock with his left hand to guide it. “John...” Jamie dared a glance at his friend. “Its still a bit tight.”

 

“You have to get past the muscle. There’s always a bit of resistance.”

 

“A bit of resistance? As I recall its like being cleaved in two.”

 

“Jamie...” John gave his friend a stern look. Which was impressive given his position. “For the love of God give me some cock.”

 

John stared Jamie down until Jamie gave way and tried once more. There was resistance, but Jamie pressed on and watched John carefully until the firm bands of muscle gave way and the head was inside. Jamie stilled, wet heat surrounding the most sensitive part of him. Warm flesh under his hands, muscled legs around his ears and John’s heady panting brushing over his face. Jamie pressed a little more and drew a long, heady groan from John.

 

“John,” Jamie forced eye contact, “Talk to me.”

 

John wiggled his bum and tried to get Jamie deeper and then experimentally tightened all his muscles to remind Jamie who was in charge and smirked at the tortured pleasure on Jamie’s face.

 

“Dear God have mercy,” Jamie exclaimed.

 

“Small thrusts,” John commanded.

 

Jamie followed his instructions, pulling out and pressing deeper in small, controlled movements that stretched John’s tight muscles around Jamie’s girth and filled John deeper and deeper until at last Jamie was seated and John’s half-gone lustful eyes were staring up at him from the pillow underneath and John was breathing in slow, careful controlled breaths.

 

Jamie paused, panting heavily and trying to control himself. Wanting to serve John harder. Faster. Wanting to hear him lose all sensibilities the way that Claire used to when he served his Sassenach.

 

It seemed that John with his careful upbringing and his slim army physique and his prim and proper exterior longed to be overpowered by the strong, physical muscled highlander his heart had settled on. But of all the reactions Jamie might have expected of himself at such a revelation at this moment in time, he had not anticipated feeling a fondness and a sense of protection of sorts towards John.

 

John could not take his eyes away as Jamie pressed deeper, pulled out and thrust in all the way. A chesty grunt was forced out of John's body at feeling the force of Jamie’s domination in every fibre of his being and still, John did not blink.

 

Jamie met John’s eyes and began to fuck him, gently at first and then moving into a hard and unrelenting pace. But John was no slouch, knowing exactly what he wanted Jamie did his best to do as commanded and watched with pleasure as John began to get that far gone look in his eye.

 

Jamie listened to John mutter his name in pace with Jamie’s brutal thrusts. He leaned forwards, forcing John’s body to bend and pushing deeper. John’s moans got louder and more obscene, begging for Jamie to satisfy him. Jamie began to mutter quietly in his friend’s ear, soothing soft words that contrasted with the rough way he was taking John’s body.

 

“Is that how you like it?” Jamie asked at last, following John’s commands and fucking him deeply and oh so sweetly, the way John groaned and writhed and arched into Jamie’s thrusts and praised the way Jamie moved inside him.

 

“Yes...God yes...please, Jamie…!”

 

Jamie’s self control started to stutter, his words left him and as the pleasure started coiling at the base of his spine there was only him and John and their panting breaths and the tight wet heat and pleasure between them that felt so good. A warning caught in Jamie’s throat as John grasped Jamie’s body tight, fingernails digging in, back arched and neck stretched out as his face contorted with pleasure.

 

Jamie’s head bowed, hair coming out of its knot to tickle John’s chest as Jamie’s rhythm fell apart and he grunted John’s name as he came in long, hot messy spurts with grasping hands and grinding hips and they stayed that way for as long as they could, clinging to each other until Jamie began to soften and there was the unwelcome loss of heat and fullness and the stretch of John’s body to accommodate Jamie’s girth that now felt cold and empty. John watched Jamie, eyes dark and sated.

 

Jamie's mind was blank. Pleasure. Turmoil. Guilt and memories. He needed something to clean them up with, it would stop him thinking too much about what they had just done and so Jamie eased himself out of John’s clutches and fighting the urge to crawl under the covers and go to sleep, Jamie instead padded naked across the room to the lukewarm basin of water and the pile of clean wash clothes. Wetting two, he came back to the bed and carefully cleaned John up before using the other on himself.

 

Jamie felt John’s eyes on him and finally met John’s eye.

 

“Come back to bed, Jamie.”

 

Jamie did not come back to bed. He busied himself taking the used cloths back to the wash basin and pondered the wisdom of retreating back to his own quarters in the stables.

 

John needed...something. His suspicions had been right, when Jamie Fraser served you he did it thoroughly and well but John needed a hug, a long moment lying down together, a touch of skin-on-skin instead of this awful distance and silence. “Jamie?”

 

“I just need a moment, John.”

 

Jamie braced his arms against the table, his back to John. Did John's trauma come rushing back at times like this, Jamie wondered, as his own did? In Jamie's head conflicting thoughts fought for supremacy. The shame at being made Randall’s whore. At being used. The furious betrayal at his own body. The insanity of agreeing to John. The conflicting morals of having just buggered a man who loved him, at the man’s own request, and enjoyed it. Yet he neither desired John nor loved him in that way. And now John wanted all of the other stuff that came with it as well. All the stuff he had once shared with Claire. The way he could still feel the heat of John’s body around his cock when he closed his eyes – and liked it. Jamie wasn’t sure that he could stand to have John touch him right now.

 

John waited, sated and pleasured and yet on the edge of trepidation. If Jamie turned on him now, it would not be the first time that a man used him for his own pleasure and then took out their anger at enjoying it on John himself. Jamie turned and stalked back towards him, his face unreadable. He sat down on the bed, his back to John. Jamie took in a breath that stretched the scars on his back, the ridges highlighted by the low light of the candles.

 

"Are ye alright?" Jamie asked and John felt his shoulders relax incrementally.

 

When John didn't answer with words Jamie forced himself to look at his friend and received a small nod.

 

“What do you need?” Jamie asked quietly.

 

“To be held a little while?” John replied with honesty. John thought that Jamie was going to refuse him but he exhaled and then inhaled again, and picked up the nightshirt on his pillow. Jamie stood, pulled it on and then slid under the covers.

 

John gravitated towards him and Jamie’s arm came around his shoulder and pulled John into a hug. If Claire could see him now, serving John to keep William safe...and yet there was a comfort in John’s body. A sense of safety that was almost familiar, that something inside Jamie responded to. John hummed happily and settled in and John turned his head half towards his friend.

 

They lay that way for a long while. John’s arse ached beautifully, could still feel where Jamie had moved inside him, could feel the trickle of his seed. The calming, relaxing post-coital bliss of being well fucked. A moment to commit to memory, no matter that John could feel a lingering anxiety in Jamie’s body. It would not be the first time they had huddled together although not quite in these circumstances. Nights on the road could be cold and any required huddling had been a sleepless torture to John. Now a full body shiver ran through him at the sensation of being held by Jamie after a long session of very thorough sex.

 

“Was it what ye hoped for?” Jamie asked in the quiet of the room and John noted from his tone it seemed to matter to him greatly.

 

John shifted, turning over in Jamie’s arms so that they were facing, “It was everything.”

 

Jamie’s hand crept down to John’s arse and squeezed it.

 

“You’re feeling conflicted,” John whispered. He could almost feel the turmoil in Jamie’s mind. The repercussions of the abuse and torture he had suffered in years gone by. The profound way the loss of his wife still gripped James Fraser to this day. The way this man felt so deeply was part of why John loved him and yet he could see the way that the conflicting emotions ate at Jamie’s soul. Jamie’s hands idly lay on his body...no, not idly. There was a hint of something more, of learning and knowing and mapping for memory. A hint of possession and growing familiarity.

 

"I'm not sure I could ever let a man do that to me even if I was your way inclined, John. Not after Randall. And yet yet let me...and ye took pleasure in it." Jamie shook his head. "It didnae, well, bring it all rushing back?"

 

"Tell me what you liked,” John invited. It was a non-answer, and Jamie stared at him for a long moment before he gave in and Jamie scoffed at John's poor attempt at diversion. “Liked? The heat of ye, the way ye...ye know what ye want. The way it feels when I’m buried inside ye and ye moan like ye need it so. Yer greedy little arse. God save and preserve us, John. I’m going tae hell.”

 

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing at drama of Jamie’s words as love and deep sexual satisfaction stirred in his his belly and before John knew it they were both chuckling together with deep belly laughs that shook the bed. “Well perhaps I should raise William as a Catholic after all and then he may pray our souls out of purgatory.”

 

The laughter broke the tension between them and when John looked up Jamie had a soft, slightly fond smile on his face and Jamie’s hand came up to fondle John’s hair and worming fingers wriggled under John’s hair line to the soft spot at the base of his scalp. John's eyes closed in peace and pleasure and Jamie made a deep throaty noise in response.

 

“Ye’ll be careful, won’t ye John? When ye go searching for men?”

 

“Is that a hint of concern I hear in your voice?”

 

Jamie’s hand tightened, gripping John’s skin hard enough to bruise where it lay on John’s body. It was not a threat of violence, John knew. It was concern, worry, fear. Possessive. “John...”

 

“I’ll be as careful as I can be, does that satisfy you?”

 

Jamie’s hand slackened.

 

“Where will you go?” John asked him. "When you leave?"

 

“Scotland.”

 

“You will write to me?”

 

“Aye. And ye’ll visit I suppose.” It was neither a question nor an invitation. Jamie knew John by now. John would turn up sooner or later, when he could stand Jamie’s absence no longer. But that thought, now, was not as unwelcome as it might once have been. John did not reply, and before the conversation could go any further Jamie’s eyes were drifting closed and he breath evened out into the raptures of sleep.

 

 

Lord John Grey had always considered himself something of an early riser, but when he felt something rousing him from sleep it was still dark. A matter of hours had passed, he could tell, but it could not be past the early hours of the morning. As he came around to wakefulness and stirred the movement triggered the aches in his body that had too long been absent and John groaned at the satisfaction of it. When he opened his eyes Jamie Fraser was already out of bed, stripping off his night shirt and pulling his own clothes on again.

 

John’s waking noises made Jamie turn around and an expression that was halfway between a smile and a smirk caught at Jamie’s mouth at the sight of John, warm and satiated with his long locks of hair tumbled about every which way and a sleepy well-fucked look in his eye that couldn’t be faked. It reminded him so much of Claire the mornings after he served her, when he was so often tempted back to bed to take her again in that slow, drawn-out way that made her moan and whimper and that Jamie loved so. When she was sore and sensitive and he would be careful but serve her one last time.

 

Jamie turned his eyes away and focused on the dying embers of the hearth and making sure his breeks were the right way around. He felt John’s eyes on him as he arranged the tails of his shirt inside the gusset and dressed himself to the right with the damaged left hand that Claire had repaired.

 

“Are ye sore?” Jamie asked. It was perfunctory question. “I recall my wife had some herbs she used if...if I was a little rough with her. Willow bark, I think...” John seemed to have an odd fascination with Jamie’s wife, he recalled. Asking questions, listening to anecdotes and stories.

 

John laughed fondly at him. “Jamie...some of us like it a little rough.”

 

If it hadn’t been all black as pitch, John was sure Jamie Fraser would be blushing. “Aye, well...I ken that well enough.” Jamie paused. He supposed that he might as well get it out and cleared his throat. “I’ve decided ye may call on me.”

 

John sat up in bed and stared hard at Jamie. “I confess myself astonished. Jamie, are you saying…?”

 

“I’m saying ye may call on me, John.” Jamie made a throaty noise and stared off into the distant, dark corners of the room. “If ye have need.”

 

It was not a request. But John suspected that a man like Jamie Fraser would rarely be able to bring himself to request such a thing of another man.

 

“I know it is not my place, but I don’t like the thought of you putting yourself in danger.” Yet again, Jamie couldn’t get the words out but they hung there between them. London. Dark lanes and parks, Alleyways and seedy corners of the docks. “I would _rather_ ye call on me,” Jamie concluded.

 

The thought had been bothering Jamie since he got up. He didn’t know what it meant. Had not had the time to process it. Jamie knew that he was not in love with John but he did care for him, and John now would have care of William too and there was that to think about. And, what disturbed him most, how much he enjoyed serving John. Waking at the thought that doing so again would not be unwelcome was deeply unsettling and would take some getting used to. Another facet of himself he would have to reconcile with his conscience.

 

Something else too, was itching at him. Jamie cleared his throat again, thinking of his one regret before sending Claire through. The one thing that he might have held onto for all these years.

 

“Would you like a lock of hair?”

 

John’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head such was his astonishment. he slid out of bed, feeling a shiver at the hit of the cold night air and quickly pulled on the unused nightshirt that had fallen on the floor.

 

“More for your sake than mine, John,” Jamie clarified. He wanted there to be no mistake that this was any sort of declaration of romantic affection but John was a friend – a good friend – and more. “But ye may have it and be welcome to it, if ye wish it.”

 

John could not bring himself to speak, but found himself presented with Jamie’s pocket knife and without words, came over and under Jamie’s watchful gaze sliced off a russet curl from the end of a lock. His hair was not yet tied up and such was the feeling in his heart John found himself reaching for Jamie one last time and Jamie indulged him, meeting him for a wet, tender, messy kiss.

 

Jamie pulled back then, placing his hand on John’s chest. “Farewell then, John.”

  
John allowed himself to take in James Fraser one last time from head to toe. A mere shadow, in the dark. But firm and solid and true and his heart. His very heart was Jamie’s and there was nothing John would not do for him. “You must write to me immediately and let me know that you are safe,” John insisted.

 

Jamie shook his head affectionately at John and pulled his friend in for one last full-body hug.

 

“I will, John.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Jamie took half a step back, his eyes locked with John’s in the mirky darkness. “Beannachd leat, a charaid.”

 

John simply stood there, unable to remove his gaze or bear the parting.

 

“Go back to bed, John,” Jamie said and then turned around and walked out.

 

 

John did not go back to bed. He stood in his bedroom in the darkness clutching the curl of Jamie’s hair in his hand until his toes turned cold and the little kitchen maid came in to light the fire, looking astonished at the prestigious guest of the house being up and about with not so much as a housecoat on.

 

Jamie left Helwater soon after, William’s heart breaking just as John’s did but John would do his grieving in private. Praying, hoping for the letter. Holding himself together through the wedding and sitting on his step-son’s bed fielding questions about Mac and noting the rosary around the boy’s neck that William never took off. The whole household felt his absence. John’s new mother-in-law more than most, asking for updates and news of a letter and insisting John must find out that Mac was well.

 

John did not miss the careful, small glances she cast at William through the encounter. And John would sip his tea and stare out at the view, the locket heavy around his neck where he had secreted Jamie’s lock of hair.

 

John even considered writing to Hal, asking if any patrols were made to Lallybroch and the state of the family there but thought the better of it and bore the torment of not knowing on his own.

 

It was over a month before a letter arrived, addressed to Lord John Grey in Jamie’s awful hand that once John would have railed at and now John held so fondly in his heart. His eyes welled in relief at the joy of knowing Jamie was alive and not attacked by brigands or murdered by outlaws or some other disaster of which Jamie Fraser had known far to much in his life.

 

With eager hands John broke the seal, grinning to himself at the little imprint of the deer and the familiar French words from the Fraser crest.

 

‘ _My dearest John,’_ The letter began. _‘I hope this finds you well...’_

 

 

 


End file.
